NX 1225
by Gojirob
Summary: In pieces somber, silly and in-between, Archer and crew have a merry merry in the 22nd Century.
1. As Sharp As Any Thorn

_At Christmastime, there are many carols sung. In this instance, the 'Carol Of The Bells' gives way to the 'Coventry Carol' as the holiday serves as grim reminder._

As Sharp as Any Thorn  
By Rob Morris

DECEMBER 25TH, 2153

They entered the greenhouse. T'Pol looked at the tree. Gingerly, she placed beneath it tiny figurines of 21st-Century Terran children who saw no Christmas trees, only a hideously bright flash.

"It would do him good to see how fine and green a place it is."

Travis brought out a carved replica of the class of trading freighter his family had made their whole lives. It represented children who had to flee a world with vast tracts of land no longer capable of supporting them.

"When a man is no longer there, he leaves an awfully big hole."

Phlox placed a stethoscope, its severed line reattached, under the tree.

"Herod commanded that no aid be given the fallen, else the healers would also fall. These are also the words of Colonel Green, on this day that is now merely to be known as 1225."

Trip held up his arms, as did once a man who cried the simple word *Enough* when the cold sunless winds were at their peak.

"This is no more a *Purification Colony*. As Presiding Officer, I forbid anyone to hold someone else here against their will, or their faith. If ordered to do so, I will refuse and act against the issuing of this order, which I say is unlawful. If one is to leave now, they will be applauded for bravery, not taunted with words like heathen and pagan. I will not recant these words. So go ahead and fire."

Hoshi held out her opened palms.

"You say these words are not meant for all that live. You have erased the records, and burned the books, and kept the words memorized unto you and yours. You think that only prayers, directed by you elite, will undo the blight we poor stupid things have brought upon the Earth. We will find other copies. The mystery of faith will not be held in certain places, by literati who bear a shield of nuclear ignorance."

Reed bit his lip, then spoke.

"All the people you have rid yourselves of, on this little island of ours. All the ones who didn't belong. How dare you petty things that murdered and who abided the murder of your neighbors make bold, passionate entreaties to one of the only real kings ever to decide it was alright not to be born in a palace? Have you even asked for his forgiveness? Or that of those you made to vanish? Well, you shan't have mine. You ask me to remove the Gunpowder Day mask I wear? Remove yours, first. Happy Christmas. England Prevails. Or are those merely more of my riddles?"

Captain Archer completed the circle.

"We won't feast, while supply lines, haunted as they are by pirates and slavers, are cut off in the remote areas. We won't feast while the rad zones are still yielding up a harvest of walking dead, terrorizing those in the unfortunate border regions. We give thanks for life and the hope of tomorrow, for that is all we have."

All turned to the specialized hybrid of conifer tree that was genetically bred to clean the tainted rad zones. Phlox plucked a needle, the first such tree being a gift from his people, when they learned of the planet still in need of cleansing and rebirth. Archer kept on.

"See this pine tree that somehow grows golden apples that glow. See the pears whose skins are like hulls that must never be pierced. See the sprouts of the holly and the ivy. Remember well that first Christmas after the bombs came, when a simple world-wide audio hook-up, punctuated by hours-long bursts of static, let anyone who still held on to any kind of faith that it was alright to do so. Remember when the light from the Star Of Bethlehem shone even through the mushroom clouds that dotted the Earth like a dead log. Remember on this, the century mark of the time a world very nearly destroyed itself."

The tree kept well its deadly inner light, and most of the crew departed. T'Pol and Archer remained.

"Captain? Before first contact, our observers described a celebration of great joy. Will this holiday ever be joyous again?"

Archer shrugged.

"People remember, then people forget. It takes on new meaning, and then it seems to lose all meaning. It seems inclusive, and then without warning it is once again decried as typical of the narrow view of one faith. The green reminds us of giving and new birth. The red reminds us of the death that comes from covetous greed, and of ignoring what we know to be true. Red and Green. Holly And Ivy. Beautiful in many respects, but as sharp as any thorn. They're both always with us."

They would both live to see a time of renewed conspicuous consumption and of forgetting all the 'old badness', which wasn't really what it was, but that's what it was called. Both also knew that the pendulum would swing back, and so enjoyed themselves, each in their own way, for what time they had.

_The holly and the ivy,_  
_When they are both full grown,_  
_Of all the trees that are in the wood,_  
_The holly bears the crown._

_O the rising of the sun,_  
_And the running of the deer,_  
_The playing of the merry organ,_  
_Sweet singing in the choir._

_The holly bears a blossom_  
_As white as lily flower;_  
_And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ_  
_To be our sweet Savior._

_The holly bears a berry_  
_As red as any blood;_  
_And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ_  
_To do poor sinners good._

_The holly bears a prickle_  
_As sharp as any thorn;_  
_And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ_  
_On Christmas day in the morn._

_The holly bears a bark_  
_As bitter as any gall;_  
_And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ_  
_For to redeem us all._

_The holly and the ivy,_  
_When they are both full grown,_  
_Of all the trees that are in the wood,_  
_The holly bears the crown._


	2. Don't You Tell A Single Soul

**Don't You Tell a Single Soul**  
by Rob Morris

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2152

Hoshi finished up her story.

"...but then he discovered that the civilization in question had been, by the standards of most worlds, very wicked. The supernova ended their evil, and its light was seen on Earth as the Star Of Bethlehem, while its charged particles caused rains on Kelielan Four that ended decades of drought. In every instance, it served a need."

The only person left was not seen as likely to offer a tale, but T'Pol proved them wrong by rising.

"Mine is merely an urban legend, as it is sometimes called. But those involved have veracity to me, so I will not discount the possibility it is true."

She had their attention, and kept on.

"A Vulcan scout-ship scanned Pre-Contact Earth. They often found nothing of import over this decades-long mission."

2000

"T'Vek, what is that you read?"

"Sotel, I am intrigued by this offering of the Terran author Samuel Clemens. 'The Mysterious Stranger' speaks of an odd being from the future, almost serenely pure and unemotional. It is, however, doubtful Clemens ever encountered such a one on this world. Has the anomaly come up yet?"

Sotel checked scans.

"No. Still, one must be watching at that exact moment, or it will be missed. I have observed the Russians truly pushing the video concept known as television. Yet the only story of note came when the crew of a whaler described what I can only call a warp-nacelled, cloaked stellar-capable ship. It stopped their hunt of the endangered cetaceans, and moved on. I believe it to be unrelated to our anomaly, though."

T'Vek saw the time, and put aside the older tabloid which spoke of a billionaire computer maker being kidnapped by UFO's.

"Sotel-we have contact."

As always, the readings vanished just as quickly.

"And now, T'Vek, we do not. Frustrating. Why does it do that? And within an atmosphere?"

T'Vek pulled out two small plates.

"We require pie."

Sotel nodded.

"Indeed."

2152

Archer shrugged.

"So what did they scan?"

T'Pol waited the barest of moments before answering.

"A small, mega-warp-capable craft within Earth's atmosphere. It was quite literally moving quickly enough to be everywhere on the planet in one instant."

Tucker waved his hands.

"One, it's just impossible to move that fast. Two, it's twice as impossible to do it within a solar system, let alone an atmosphere. Just when was this supposed to have occurred?"

T'Pol gave the answer.

"Once a year, at 12:01 AM, on December 25th, from a theorized polar launch site."

T'Pol left the room. As eyes widened and jaws dropped, Reed asked his Captain's opinion.

"Did she get us, sir?"

Archer smiled.

"I don't view it as being gotten, Malcolm. I view it as the hope that on some night, Ambassador Soval just might be visited by three ghosts."


	3. If RankinBass Wrote Enterprise

**If Rankin-Bass Wrote Enterprise**  
by Rob Morris

2151

The Captain entered the Bridge, a quite jolly CO. A red-nosed reindeer entered with him.

"Ho-so this is the Starship Enterprise. The ship that can take us all over the known galaxy in one night. It's been a long road getting here."

Rudolph developed a bit of a sneer.

"Begging the Captain's pardon, but we'd have gotten this ship moving a lot faster if the Elves hadn't acted to hold us back, all these years."

"No one knows that better than I, Rudolph. Why, the Kringles worked with Zephram Cochrane to develop the basic technology for this ship. But for now, let's ignore the Elves and..."

*Put One Foot In Front Of The Other, And Soon We'll Be Warping Through Plutoooo; Put One Foot In Front Of The Other-And Soon We'll Be Warping Past The Borg!*

His song done, Captain Kringle took a tour of his ship. A small donkey tripped over his enormous ears, running over to him.

"Ensign Nestor, reporting for duty, Captain. I'm-I'm Navigation. Sorry about the ears. I'm not an Elf, by the way."

Lt. Cmdr. Rudolph lit up his nose, and smiled at the nervous youngster.

"Don't worry, kid. This isn't the 20th Century. We misfits all have a place, here in Starfleet. See..."

*We're a couple of misfits; But we beat all the bigots; Now's the era for misfits; that's how we will win!*

The small donkey perked up.

"Thank you, sir. I feel like I could carry this whole ship on my back, now."

Into the Doctor's offices they went, finding the Doctor quite immobile. Rudolph grabbed something in his mouth.

"Capftan-hif environmental headgeat!"

Captain Kringle placed the headgear upon the resident of Haagen Daaz One.

He awoke with a start.

"Happy Birthday! Boy, this is a really neat ship. I can't wait till somebody gets sick and nearly dies."

Doctor Frosty needed to work on his bedside manner. In Engineering, Kringle and Rudolph were nearly skewered by a pick-axe.

"Sorry, sirs. Just testin' the warp field stability."

Engineer Cornelius then tasted the edge of the pick-axe.

"Nothin'. Not a trace of deuterium, or other warp-field by-products. Keep tryin' boys!"

Leaving the odd man to his work, Captain Kringle called over another reindeer.

"Rudolph, this is our translator and Communications Officer, Clarice."

Rudolph nodded.

"Hi, Clarice. Long time no see."

"That was your choice, Rudolph. You left without saying goodbye."

"If I had said goodbye-could you have let me go?"

She looked down.

"No. You're-you're still cute, Rudolph."

As she walked away, Rudolph smiled.

"She thinks I'm cute!"

Finally, the Elf shuttle arrived. Rudolph looked at his Captain.

"You know he's gonna say it. All elves say it. It's in their silver and gold blood."

"Rudolph, there's a line regarding such comments. Now, I don't like this much more than you. But the Elves have been as much help as hindrance, as we sought out this last frontier."

"He's gonna say it!"

The Elf, Sub-Commander Hermie, looked about as he disembarked.

"Ahh. Humans and Reindeer. Such a tragic lack of proper Elfin dental hygiene."

Before Kringle could order Rudolph not to say the obvious, the Elf got to the point with typical bluntness.

"Captain, let me see your prisoner."

The shaggy abomination was bound in the brig. Hermie studied the alien.

"Captain, we can't return this Bumbles! His teeth have all been removed. His people will regard him as forever lost, and view us with anger for retrieving him this way."

Kringle shook his head.

"No. We're taking this fella home, Sub-Commander. This is a North Pole operation, not an Elf one, last I checked."

And so the standoff began.

Next Week:

The chronally shadowed figure stared at Kringle.

"You want to know who I am, Nicholas? Wellll..."

*I'm Mister Revision; I'm Mister Chron; I'm Mister AUness; I'm Mister Anomalous; They call me TimeMiser; Whatever I touch; Alters history in my clutch; I'm-too much-*

Smaller versions of the figure then began to dance and sing in front of him, providing a chorus.


	4. That Keeps On Giving

That Keeps On Giving

By Rob Morris

DECEMBER 1ST, 2158

Archer stared at the Santa-sized list in utter horror.

"Twelve hundred presents? Doctor, why?"

Phlox shrugged and checked his budget twice more than any list of behavioral preferences.

"Each of my three wives have two other husbands, each of whom have two other wives, and so on for quite some length, breadth and depth, Captain."

Archer shook his head and firmly regretted his big mouth when one of Phlox's youngest children spoke to them over the Bridge's Main Viewer.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. So very sorry."

Phlox nodded.

"Can you finally see why we adults avoided telling Denobulan children about Christmas?"


End file.
